Souls reconstructed with faith transform agony into peace.
You were born a child of light’s wonderful secret— you return to the beauty you have always been.
The death of a dream can in fact serve as the vehicle that endows it with new form, with reinvigorated substance, a fresh flow of ideas, and splendidly revitalized color. In short, the power of a certain kind of dream is such that death need not indicate finality at all but rather signify a metaphysical and metaphorical leap forward.
Un-winged and naked, sorrow surrenders its crown to a throne called grace.
Love taught me to die with dignity that I might come forth anew in splendor. Born once of flesh, then again of fire, I was reborn a third time to the sound of my name humming haikus in heaven’s mouth.
Hope drowned in shadows emerges fiercely splendid–– boldly angelic.
Everywhere we shine death and life burn into something new.
With my ninth mind I resurrect my first and dance slow to the music of my soul made new.
Searching for a mind long lost I found it shaping colors and history near the cliffs of your heart.
This rose of pearl-coated infinity transforms the diseased slums of a broken heart into a palace made of psalms and gold.
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